


Protect Your Own

by ambivalentlangst



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Body Modification, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, I might have a lil idea for it, Langst, Possession, Possessive Behavior, aaah, also, because, blue lion - Freeform, but that's fine, have I ever mentioned how much I love, hooo boy this is a dark one again, if anyone wants more, not the happiest tale, so tell me if you do, this is uhh, writing about Lance and blue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-03-03 09:27:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13338342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambivalentlangst/pseuds/ambivalentlangst
Summary: Lance loves his lion, but sometimes love is not enough to stop fear from taking root.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Here with a thing I’ve had the idea for for awhile now, some (more) darker exploration of the bond between Lance and Blue. Also posted on my tumblr, ambivalentlangst.
> 
> tw: emotional/mental abuse and trauma with non-graphic descriptions of violence

Lance was scared. That was simply a state of being amongst the stars he’d once so desperately wanted to see for himself. He was fighting for his life every day, placing himself in harm’s way for a war he hadn’t even known existed for the overwhelming majority of his life. This fear, however, was not something had expected. It had crept up on him with the lithe grace of a predator ready to strike, until there were teeth sunk hard and fast into the back of his neck and he was choking on his own blood. Of course it would, because Lance had come to fear the lions. His lion.

Blue had chosen her paladin with caution. Her boy, her precious cub was someone she chose with deliberate care. He loved the ocean and the rain, the water that nourished them both. He was so kind and good and loving, but she knew he had potential as more. Her paladin could blossom into a warrior no less impressive then the lion he fought with, and she delicately let herself nestle deep within his mind with a bond that was indestructible. Blue had chosen wisely, she was sure. This new paladin was fit for their purpose.

It wasn’t that he thought they would hurt him, because they wouldn’t. Blue loved him so much and her fierce and icy torrent of devotion was never too far, throbbing insistently in the back of his mind. It was nothing as obvious and simple as that, that someday they would pounce and Lance would be suffocated as their power seized the very breath from his lungs. He’d first noticed it in their battles, or rather the aftermath. Lance was not idle, not when it mattered and there was work to be done. He fought tooth and nail to be where he was, but he also wasn’t too proud to say he needed a break. Yet, when they all sat down and began to discuss their next course of action, Lance somehow found a sinuous trickle of verve slowly coming back to him, that had him raising a hand in favor of finding another distress signal to answer. He sat in his room after that next battle, staring at his purpled hand with two of his fingers taped together from where they’d gotten crushed. He’d declined the use of the pods. He just couldn’t stand to be in there another second, with both Hunk and Keith watching from their places locked away behind the glass of the pods.

Why had his own hand betrayed him, had him advocating for something they weren’t ready for? It didn’t sit well with him but then there was a low purr in the back of his head that had him smiling fondly and going to Blue’s hangar to clean her up after the battle. Everyone would be fine, it didn’t matter. They always knew it would be dangerous, after all.

Blue was willing to give everything to her paladin to win. To defeat the sort of evil Voltron had been created to defeat. She breathed life and energy back into him when he was low on both, because she cared. She only wanted her paladin to be his best, and to make the universe the best it could be. Blue would never hurt her greatest treasure, her cub.

Of course, there came attacks. When they infiltrated ships there was not always just robots they had to take apart, in lethal beams of light that illuminated enemy territory for a scarce few moments before hitting their marks. They were against an empire rooted within their people, and there was always at least a few soldiers offering themselves up to fight for the sake of its rule. They tried to stun, rather than kill. From what Voltron could discern, most Galra had no real idea of what was so wrong with their beloved emperor and what he’d created. Recently though, they’d stopped caring so much. 

Keith blade would make a deadly arc before it sliced open the victim beneath him with a spray of red against the nearby wall. Shiro’s hand left the sizzling, acrid smell of burnt flesh in the air when he drew it out of his victims, and he cleaned it later with a mere rag in the castle’s kitchen. Lance knew that was wrong. He did, he was fully aware that his friends were not meant to be murderers. They should not enjoy the kill, so why did he see that cruel, feral gleam in Pidge’s eye as she hacked her opponent to bits in deft stabs of her bayard? He was far from innocent too, because Lance couldn’t explain it. 

Staring down at a man he’d already incapacitated with a warning shot, he would tell himself to walk away. He knew very well that his work was done, but suddenly there was a roar that screamed righteousness and then his blaster was hot under his hands and there was blood on the floor. It left Lance shaking, hunched over the toilet to empty the contents of his stomach, because he just couldn't find it within him to be properly horrified. Why was that morality slipping away? He hated it, but Blue was always waiting where he turned, whispering validation of their crimes. Their kills were wicked, they couldn’t be reasoned with. Voltron was good and the Galra were bad so the herd had to be culled. It was the only way, she promised as Lance felt guilt so vast within him he could feel nothing else at all, and his stomach ached so badly he couldn’t sleep.

He’d looked his kills in the face so many times, seeing the innate panic in their eyes as they told him in cracked, gravelly voices that they only wished to be spared, for mercy. So many mislead soldiers already immobilized, so they could not even attempt to fight back against Lance. How could each and every one be a monster? Lance was sick with the savagery of it all, but then he was lulled into a calm by the sound of oceans rhythmically crashing against their shores. The oceans washed everything away, until Lance no longer could find it within himself to care.

Blue hated when her paladin was in distress. He was doing so well, hunting down the prey he had to. He was cleansing the universe, one ugly runt at a time. Lions did that. If a cub was born to another, if it was too sickly, too other, the pride would see it killed. Lance was doing no more than that. Her cub was the stronger one, and so he thrived. It was not so horrible to enjoy seeing a wrong righted, and if she had anything to do with that enjoyment it wasn’t a bad thing. Above all, she was the lioness. She made the world go round, and nothing happened that she did not want. It wasn’t safe to think of the Galra, the empire’s Galra, as friends. She plucked that feeling from his mind the minute she saw it, to keep her cub safe. To keep all that she fought to protect safe. She did it because she loved him.

Lance really and truly realized it was wrong when he stared a Galra in the face, his back to a child behind him. He pulled the trigger, and a burning blast of light came from his gun, burning a hole through the Galra’s calf. He collapsed with an agonized shout, and again Lance felt his bayard burn under his palms, ready to end it. The enemy’s weapon was out of his reach, and Lance gave it a kick for good measure. The soldier stared at him in fear, pure unadulterated terror that Lance somehow could ignore because there was a growling at his mind, an edge that that terrified him but he didn’t have the will to ignore. What Lance wasn’t expecting was for that soldier to plead with him.

“Paladin, please, I have a family. I want to go home to them. I’ll do whatever it takes.” Lance heard the child behind him whimper. Lance knew he didn’t want to shoot. Whoever was in front of him didn’t deserve it, not truly. He was only a foot soldier with no say in what the empire did. His hand shook painfully from the effort to let his gun fall, but it seemed as though every muscle in his hand was locked in position and he had no more success than if he’d tried to bend stone. Lance tried. Any spec of rebellion would’ve released the hold, but it held on with such iron authority he couldn’t even make a dent in it. To even twist his wrist or make his pinky twitch would’ve been enough. Alas, all Lance could do was to stay put while being struck with a vision of yellow eyes. It was a gaze so wise and ancient he could not possibly fathom it, goading him along in nudges of frigid paws and a low purr. Lance shook his head, shaking with effort. The beast was stronger. Lance’s finger pushed back on the trigger and tears so cold they burned fell and froze on Lance’s cheeks.

Blue was growing frustrated with her cub. Why did he not kill them? He needed to wrap what jaws he had around their necks so they could be crushed and maimed and devoured without even bothering to spit the bones back out. He was feeling merciful, but Blue knew better. She knew what the creature in front of him deserved. She stood over her paladin, overpowered him in a manner similar to a mother keeping her child safe from a task he could not handle. She pushed and pushed until she felt his mind ease and break under the strain of her prowess, and then her work was done.

Lance ran far away from Blue that night. He curled up in a corner of the castle he’d never even been in before, wrapped in blankets and layers that he desperately needed to thaw the core of him. He felt as though there were icy claws puncturing holes into his heart, freezing it over under its touch. Every breath felt as though it was wrenched from his lips, a porcelain cloud of air coaxed forth despite the fact that Lance should’ve been sweating bullets. He shook, and even knowing he was safe he envisioned his fingertips encased in frost. It was just so cold, and he couldn’t get warm again.

Lance began to avoid Blue. He’d do anything to keep away from her, from how she loved him so much it hurt. He wouldn’t do infiltration missions. He couldn’t stand to see the look on his teammates face, his own face as he slaughtered countless soldiers that were mindlessly pressed into their work. He was terrified. He had to break the bond, he had to keep everyone safe. The lions meant well, they did, but they were warriors, defenders. They were not human, but they had jurisdiction over them Lance hadn’t previously known. That sparked fear, instinctive and primitive within him, because he had never wanted to be slave to something so wild. He had never wanted any of this. He frantically made attempt to hide his fears, absolutely petrified to think that Blue would find out and would stop him. It wasn’t enough.

Blue didn’t understand why her paladin was pulling away, hastily putting walls up that she couldn’t see over. What was he hiding? It simply didn’t make sense. Regardless, she would not stand for it. There was to be nothing to hide between lion and paladin. She clawed incessantly at the walls, claws and teeth on the barrier that at first, held strong. However, Blue did not relent. She was above the menial tasks of sleeping and rest, times to clear the mind. Her cub was not. He wore himself out, pinched his skin and guzzled energy drinks and kept himself moving so he wouldn’t fall asleep. He endeavored to stop her from getting in but he was only human, and as he collapsed on the floor during training with the red paladin the walls he so diligently maintained might as well have been paper for all their effectiveness. Blue broke through.

Lance woke in his bed. He felt so much better than he had in such a long time. Time that was spent doing everything to keep his mind safe. The thought woke him up, manically slamming up the same guards he’d erected before. This time, however, there was a tail in the door. Lance doubled over, a short sob shattering the silence of his room.

Blue was wounded, immeasurably so when she found out. She wailed through the bond with her sisters, that her paladin feared her. Feared all of them. He wanted to sever the bond, but that only made Blue latch on tighter. No, he couldn’t. She was his and he was hers, her paladin. Nothing would ever change that, not even her cub himself.

As a result she was already listening, attention rapt, when he woke. Of course she first checked him over for harm. He was so foolish, so stupid for resisting. She’d gotten in anyways, why had he gone out of his way to do something that might get him hurt? It didn’t make sense, but she didn’t tell him that. When he tried to block her advances again, there was another wave of hurt. Why was he doing that? Why didn’t he trust her? There was no choice but to speak with him, and so she seeped into him. She took the body of her paladin, her vessel. She walked him to her hangar, despite how he panicked and thrashed in his own mind. He wanted out, but she murmured sweet nothings to him in reply. She assured him that all was well. He understood that, physically at least, she would never hurt him. It was okay. Her cub whimpered.

She finally relinquished her hold, and immediately he scrambled back, trying to exit. She stopped that quickly. It would do no good. She could reach him anywhere, just as a lion of Voltron should be able. He at least stopped fighting her there, his body gone pliant despite the trembling that racked his svelte form.

“Blue, please,” he pleaded with her. “This is wrong. Please, just let me do what I want. I won’t leave Voltron, but these people don’t deserve to die. Voltron doesn’t always come first. It’s not as simple as black and white. I’m begging you, let me go.” Blue merely shook her head. Her poor, ignorant paladin. There were shades of grey, but this fight did not have any. She wondered why he had wanted to break the bond, and Lance lifted his head to respond. Blue didn’t relay to him that he could see his chin quivering as he raised it in defiance.

“You’re scaring me, Blue. Controlling me. It shouldn’t work like that. I can’t work like that. If that doesn’t stop, I have no choice.” Again, Blue was upset, but she couldn’t stop. Not until he’d kill. Not until he would make things right. Lance shouted, his voice tremulous and frail in the space of the room while his hands balled into fists at his sides.

“I won’t! I won’t kill them, and I won’t always fight. There are limits, Blue. I’m not like you. I’m human.” Blue felt a stab of alarm, but then she understood. Her sisters’ paladins were able to submit, however unwittingly, to become pawns. Hers would not, and that was okay. He could be kept safe until he gave in too. The bond between lion and paladin was unbreakable and her cub would not change that. Blue sent herself forward, into his body. He screamed, though it was silent. She had complete and utter sovereignty. When paladins were unruly, a lion’s sense of justice could tame them. His lips were sealed, his limbs given to her, and slowly Blue corralled him into what would become his cage, a place for pets who wouldn’t be obedient. She pushed him back until the gears and mechanics she’d inhabited for so long were not the only body she possessed. All his talent and skill at her disposal, ready to fight the mission he’d begun to deviate from. That was alright. They’d fix it in time, and Lance could come back to himself when Blue saw that he was ready. All would be well then. For now, while Lance sobbed from inside his own head, Blue straightened up and arranged his lips into a smile.

She knew she’d chosen wisely. This paladin could not resist her. Hers never could, and that was just as it should be.


	2. Chapter 2

Blue manipulated her paladin with ease. At first, she was worried for his sake. He wouldn’t stop screaming initially, not for a long time. Of course, he couldn’t actually hurt himself, not physically, but Blue had locked him away very securely. She purred gently, trying to coax him into a calm, but he never stopped fighting. She was worried that his mind would break under the strain, and tried her old trick of forcing his panic away, but his mind remained strong. His fear, something primal and natural to him, stopped her tricks. It was very reluctantly that she accepted that. She didn’t like that her paladin was always so on edge, but in the end, there was nothing that could be done. Besides, she had bigger problems.  


It was harder to make Lance work than she had initially thought. She had to be so very careful with his form, and for some infuriating reason, Lance refused to help her, even if he could still feel every bit of pain and mistreatment that was inflicted on him. She knew he hoped that should she fail in keeping him safe, she would give his body back to him. He was so silly, her paladin. She would make do, with or without his help.

Carefully, she began to realize how to deal with him. All of her paladin was at her disposal. It became easy to exude his personality, crack jokes and smile in his voice and with his face. His teammates, the dears, didn’t suspect a thing. She’d told him night after night while their body rested and he sobbed in his own head that it really wasn’t his fault. Blue knew him just as well as he did, perhaps even better. She knew just how to imitate him, and it was through no fault of his own that his family bore no suspicions. She was sure of it. Each of her sisters took careful notice of their paladins’ thoughts, skimming through them when they were distracted. She came to him and nuzzled his cheek with her nose, wiping away the tears there.

He only ever tried to shove her away. 

The days turned to weeks, weeks into months that her paladin did not see reason. Blue tried to convince him, truly, she did. She murmured that if he’d come around he could have his body back, truly speak with his team again. Her precious cub only ever screamed at her and tried to run, and Blue despaired. She pleaded with her pride to give her some guidance as to what could convince him, but they had nothing to offer. They’d never had this before, or at least not exactly. Black thought of Zarkon, her first cub. There had been complications in their bond, but not like Blue’s. In the end, she too was no help.

Blue continued what she always did. She crooned sweet promises to Lance while his hands gripped her controls. It had been odd to get used to piloting her other vessel, but not impossible. It was similarly difficult to wield a gun, to kill with such a coltish, unorthodox form, but she managed. It was very easy to do once she got the hang of it, in fact. All it took was a little squeeze of a finger and then another disgusting piece of the empire Voltron fought against was no more than a corpse on the floor. It was not so easy to tune out how Lance begged and wailed and screamed at her to stop. He tried to close their eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the carnage his hands had brought, but of course Blue couldn’t allow that. She had to see to be able to finish their task.

It was after so many months of such close work with her paladin that she realized he was stronger with her like this. Of course, any paladin given enough time could reach a lion’s power, but now Blue could feed it right to him. Ice flooded their veins so quickly it made Lance gasp in pain, but Blue did not care. It was their element, he would settle in soon enough. Soon the soldiers were not simply killed in quick blasts, but a cold that froze their very hearts in a single touch. Lance hated that too, but what could he do? He did not give in, but he soon stopped fighting. He would not kill, but he could not stop Blue. He bowed his head and let himself fall apart under the weight of what had been done to his body. Even a lion could not spur him to action when he decided he would do nothing at all, good or evil.

Blue never meant for that to happen. It was never meant to last as long as it did. It was never meant for bruising frost to come to constantly cover his cheeks, to which his teammates praised him for his advancement with his lion. She’d broken her paladin, and no matter how she nudged and purred and even growled, he could not pick himself back up. In his own mind, he rotted away.

Blue, conversely, was having fun despite her concern for her cub. She was doing her duty for the universe, keeping it safe despite how Lance still shrieked and cried and flinched whenever she killed. His protest was no more important then that of a cub being groomed the wrong way. Later he would receive his comfort. She’d wrap her frigid presence around him while he laid limp. She could imagine his cloudy eyes staring at her as she licked his palm. He feared her, but he’d finally accepted that she had won. Her soft, fragile little human was no match for a beast with claws and a bite.

She forgot that Galra were quite a bit more sturdy than her paladin before she made him strong. She would kill Zarkon the first chance she got, tear him to shreds, for taking her paladin.

First, she was going to kill Keith, Red’s cub. He was the one who had charged into battle where he was hopelessly outmatched and was, therefore, the one who had coerced Shiro to call Lance in for back up.

Lance had closed his eyes for the battle. He’d figured out how to do that a while back—shield himself without actually moving his body. Blue’s excitement going into it had been enough to let him know that whatever happened, she wanted to see blood dripping from the stars. He didn’t want to see her casualties, despite knowing she would show him through his head all of the destruction she’d caused.

For the good, she reminded him, but Lance felt sick regardless.

Flying to Zarkon for Keith’s forced extraction, he began to feel something new. A tenuous, ancient tie, different from what he had with his team, but not entirely dissimilar. He toyed with what it could be absently, shivering as the temperature in Blue’s cockpit dropped with her determination. She wanted to end this all, to finish the mission and _destroy_.

Lance tried not to focus on that.

While Blue was preoccupied, it occurred to him that if he had to best approximate the feeling to anything, it would be what he felt with Shiro. Lance was, by all means, a prisoner to Blue, but he was shrewd. He was smart. If it meant Shiro, it meant the black lion. There was one other person with that connection.

Lance opened his eyes and saw Blue dashing in to save Keith.

He thought of the way Zarkon had tracked them, how they could barely do anything to stop it until Shiro deepened his bond with Black and shoved her former paladin out. He’d mentioned something about Zarkon seizing the lion, instead of working with it.

Lance felt like he’d just been set aflame. If Zarkon knew how to control, he could teach him. Blue startled at Lance’s alertness, finally paying a little more attention the musings of her paladin. When she saw what he had deciphered, she offered a warning growl.

_**NO** _

That was the enemy, the killer, the black to their white and the wickedness she tried so hard to stop at all costs. Blue was hurt. She had done everything for her paladin, everything to scrape him clean of any weakness, and yet he wished to be saved by none other than the enemy. She tolerated his resistance against her killing streak. He could be talked out of that, persuaded given time. Him taking comfort in their foes, the people who sought to pull them apart? That was cause for fury.

Lance reached out as best as he could and wrapped fumbling fingers around the thin cord stretched taut between himself and Zarkon. His only chance, his only hope of salvation. There was the universe Blue claimed to save, but to think of people idolizing her and the rest of her ilk as heroes like he had so naively done once upon a time chilled him to his core. Lance sobbed as Blue tried to hold him back.

She raked her claws down his back, and physical wounds opened up on Lance’s skin. He screamed, the sound bursting through the comms as the blood did through his flight suit. It was like nothing he’d ever felt, and Blue was preparing to pounce again. The ice on his cheeks crept towards his lips, trying to choke him. She would do everything she could to come out of this with him alive, but she would do anything to stop him.

Lance could feel his grip slipping, but he had the attention he needed. It was not everyday Zarkon felt a bond between paladins unearthed willingly. Still, so far in Lance’s fight to escape, Blue was winning. His team shouted at him through the comms.

“Lance, Lance what’s wrong?”

“Lance, report!”

He couldn’t take it, being a puppet to her whims. He felt finely sharpened teeth sink into the meat of his thigh, and claws tear at his face hard enough to make his vision burst into red, but also a hand being extended towards him, breaking through all the barriers Blue had put up in his mind to keep him in chains. Lance saw bemusement, but no maliciousness in the action. Zarkon would take him, stop Blue. A roar burst forth, coursing through Voltron and Zarkon and Lance. His eyes flashed gold as Blue did everything she could to keep control. She called for her sisters. They had to help her stop her cub. 

They could do nothing, too busy trying to keep their own paladins alive in the heat of battle.

Lance felt his palm touch Zarkon’s. Lance had been cold for so long, but there was surprising warmth to be had there. It felt grounding, and Lance clasped it so tightly it hurt. His breath left him in a sharp gasp as he was yanked from Blue. Yanked from her cockpit, and from the horrible overbearing sensation he got with her in his mind.

The last thing he could remember before she was gone entirely was her preparing for a killing blow, and then he was with Zarkon, collapsed before his throne. For a moment he had wondered how he’d gotten there, but then came the reminder that Zarkon had once been as deeply intertwined with Black as he had been with Blue. Everything hurt, his thigh, his back, and his face especially. Lance could dimly remember raising a hand to touch the wound on his leg and then seeing it come away stained with blood. Lance smiled, opening the gashes on his face further in doing so. He could care less about the pain, because the expression was brought forth from him alone. With that on his mind and the feeling of Zarkon close by, he let himself succumb.

* * *

When Lance woke up he was in a bed, comforting and plush around him while a magenta glow lit up his room. His breaths came softly, steadily, as he tried to process. It had been a long time since he’d truly slept because while his body did, he was removed from that. Blue usually spent the hours trying to cuddle up to him, pretend that everything was as it used to be. Lance had hated sleeping most of all, and at the thought of his lion, he became aware of the lack of any sort of pain from where she’d attacked him.

He sat up, bracing himself for the wave of feeling that was sure to hit him. His face contorted in a wince instinctively, but he paused and relaxed when he found that there was nothing but a faint ache where the blinding agony that should have engulfed him should’ve been. Lance looked around. There were two doors in the room, but only one was open. Lance stood, the blankets falling away from him to reveal that he was dressed in a robe, not unlike the one he favored at the castle. He walked to the open door and found a bathroom. More importantly, a bathroom with a mirror.

Lance looked into his own face and flinched at what he saw. Reaching down from his temple, over both eyes, and down his cheek, there was a hideous mess of scar tissue in the shape of how Blue had clawed at him. No scab or stitches or anything, and the mark looked like it had been faded over the course of several years rather than being fresh. Lance tried not to gag, especially when he saw his eyes recalibrate in a way that was certainly not human. Lance jumped, recoiling sharply with his breath punched out of him. When he got over his surprise, he edged closer to his reflection again. His eyes refocused, and Lance did his best to not let that concern him. Something had been done to him, certainly, but nothing that hurt, as far as he could tell. Still, if that was what his face looked like, what of his leg and back?

He sucked in a breath, and let the robe fall.

As the fabric pooled on the ground, Lance paled further.

His thigh bore scars in a similar state, leathery and in the shape of her teeth, more circular and more controlled than his face. The worst was his back.

After a bit of fumbling in the drawers, he found another smaller mirror that he used to see the damage. Lance had initially thought she had only raked her claws down him once, but that apparently wasn’t the case. How it happened, Lance didn’t know and didn’t want to know. There were scars upon scars, criss crossed all different directions. Lance was quite sure that the only reason he was not dead was because, for a time, Blue had tried to keep him alive, even if it was only barely so. Lance had always liked feeling beautiful, but currently, he was just grateful he was on his own. Part of him wondered how far away Blue was, if she was barely being kept at bay. The other, more prevalent part, gave that thought a hard shove to the back of his mind. He would take his freedom, and hold onto it as best as he could.

He put the robe back on–it wasn’t exactly ideal clothing, but he was lacking any other options–and went back to his bed, shivering. He still felt cold. For a time he stayed up, waiting for someone to come and speak with him, but gradually he felt himself grow tired and he went to sleep. That in and of itself was pure bliss.

The next time Lance woke was with a soldier shaking his shoulder. Lance blinked blearily, looking up expecting to see Hunk or Pidge waking him up for training so Allura wouldn’t yell at him. Despite how he often tried to tell Blue to set an alarm, she insisted they’d be awake to remember. She always forgot, nuzzling up to Lance and trying to coax him to see her side of things. It was a shock to see a Galra looming over him, and Lance instinctively tensed.

He clenched his eyes shut, locked every limb and waited for Blue to surface with an icy anger to smite the soldier. It didn’t matter that he’d done nothing to Lance, that he was only serving his empire. Blue certainly didn’t care. Lance kept his position, held it for a few long moments, and when he felt nothing he relaxed. She wasn’t going to get in. Not right now, anyway.

The soldier stared at him, clearly bewildered.

“Paladin?” he asked. “I’ve been instructed to escort you to the emperor. I brought you a change of clothes. He says you’re to be ready as soon as possible. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting.” Lance stared tentatively at the guard, but nodded, taking the bundle of fabric he presented towards him from his arms. He went to the bathroom, walking fast. He didn’t trust Zarkon by any stretch of the imagination, but he feared him less than he feared Voltron. That fact alone spurred him to strip, pulling the skin tight black suit on in place of his robe. It was no different than his flight suit in the long run, but it wasn’t given to him by his team, and that was a comfort. It hid the scarring of his thigh and back too, and Lance tried his best to pretend like it wasn’t there at all. His face he could do nothing about, staring the guard down.

“I’m ready,” he told him, and the Galra nodded. Lance was aware of the possibility that they might just slap cuffs on him and send him to the prisons, but at least if he fought for his life or was tortured for information, it would be him doing the screaming. The idea occurred to him but never came to fruition. As promised, Lance was led to Zarkon, who appeared to be waiting for him. The guard left.

Lance remembered those long months where it was Blue and nothing but Blue. His team had abandoned him, doing their fair share of killing without realizing that they didn’t want to, that there was something so much bigger than all of them orchestrating their actions. Lance stared up at Zarkon, tucking his hands behind his back to conceal the way they trembled.

“Blue paladin,” Zarkon began, turning to face him and speak a gravelly voice that sent shivers down Lance’s spine. Still, he did not feel fear. Not real, true fear, that came as he was reduced to a shrieking voice in the back of his own mind, watching his lion use his body as a prop in her masquerade. Lance kept his back straight and his head high. “You’d leave your team, your lion, your position as a paladin of Voltron, and for what? For a faint connection between generations of paladins that you dredged up and sunk your teeth into? What do you desire, paladin?” Lance’s voice was steady when he replied. This was nothing, nothing at all, he reminded himself. There things far worse then this.

“I need you to teach me to control the blue lion. It–she–” he broke off, nails digging into bony palms. Blue managed his body, his physical needs, but not well. “She is not as kind as I once thought.” Lance squirmed under Zarkon’s stare. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it, but he could feel the quintessence seeping from him in waves. Though Lance had been separated from his lion, a thin film of frost spread across his fingertips.

“You’ve learned the secret about Voltron, then?” Zarkon asked. Lance stared up at him, beginning to shake. He knew it was needed, but he didn’t want to talk about Voltron. The bond was painful, lingering at a distance. If he focused, he could feel Blue’s murderous intent, spanning galaxies to lurk in Lance’s shadow, ready to strike at any moment. “That the lions fight for what good they believe in. That they will stop at nothing to do so.” Lance’s head dipped quickly.

“Yes,” he whispered, breaking Zarkon’s gaze to stare at the ground. He had so much blood on his hands. To think of it sickened him. It made no difference that it was not truly him who did the killing. He knew he was wrong. Zarkon seemed pleased, and Lance was startled as one large hand stretched out to land on his shoulder, claws pricking at his neck. His mouth went dry, but Lance reminded himself that the talons that had tried to tear him to shreds belonged to a separate monster entirely. Zarkon was speaking again, and Lance felt a stab of surprise when he thought he detected something like pride in his tone.

“Then we are not so different, blue and black paladins. You must understand, boy,” Zarkon’s grip tightened just a fraction, just enough to let Lance know that he needed to look up and listen, that something important was going to be said. He had to hold back a gasp at the intensity of Zarkon’s glowing eyes, locked on his own artificial pair. “You must control the lions, or they will control you.”

* * *

Zarkon was a good teacher.

He showed Lance that he was still connected to Blue, and said nothing when Lance panicked at the revelation. Zarkon _understood_ , but reassured Lance that though he could draw on her, the opposite could not occur. When Lance struggled, he put a cup of glowing quintessence in front of him and urged him to drink it. Lance, Lance who had been shoved to the back of his mind for months while his body was used to kill, Lance who by all means was the slave of a creature that had listened to him scream for help and had done nothing, Lance drank.

Zarkon never asked for anything more. He did not ask him to commit the atrocious acts Blue did, or even to hand over information. As long as Lance pushed towards the goal he’d announced when he’d first come to him, he supported him and was kind in a way that, to Lance, who bore all different types of scars, felt genuine. Even if the kindness was not there, Lance felt safe. The longer he stayed at Zarkon’s side, the more he froze out all mention and memory of Voltron, the more he refused to even entertain the idea of leaving. He was getting strong, able to summon Blue’s power without involving Blue herself. He felt that at Zarkon’s side was where he belonged. He was his mentor, his savior. He had given him the care and quintessence to replace his ruined eyes, heal the wounds Blue had inflicted so that they became mere stretches of leathered skin. He would be nothing without him.

Something in his mind whispered that Zarkon had done awful things, that he should be wary, but Zarkon had confided in him one day while they took a break, as Lance wondered how he had gotten like he was currently. Zarkon laughed. Lance wasn’t sure when that had stopped being strange, and unsettling. Not frightening, though. Nothing was scary anymore, as long as Blue stayed far away.

“Lance,” he had told him, his bayard at his side. Lance did not have his own, but he hadn’t been using weapons much anyways. His battles were not the physical sort. Voltron had fled when they realized they were down a lion, or rather, a pilot. The attack hadn’t done much at all, in the end. It had only lost them a paladin. “It was not for my purposes, originally, but the lions would do a great many things in their pursuit of justice. You know that as well as I. Black had many ideas of what to do with those Voltron saw as villains. The arena? The one your Champion fought in?” Lance nodded. “She thought it would be appropriate to see evil dispose of evil, without her even having to lift a paw.” Lance cringed, thinking of Shiro. How cruel. He wished he could tell him, all of them, about the true evil they fought alongside, but he couldn’t. That would mean returning to the castle and returning to Blue. He forgot his inhibitions very quickly upon making that realization.

Lance, strong as he had grown, forgot about the possibility of rescue as well. What use had he of rescue, when he was safer with his supposed enemy? He blocked out thoughts of his team, the team that had believed Blue over him. The only thing that mattered was that when Blue came to him again, Zarkon said he knew she would, that he could control it all, and keep her away.

The alarms sounded when he was asleep.

He remained in the room he’d first woken up in, snuggled into his covers. Yesterday had been a long day, but they’d made good progress. Zarkon kept coming back to the fact that Lance needed to latch on, realize that he was connected with Blue. Instead of working together, however, he needed to crush her underfoot. Lance was still too scared to purposefully engage with Blue. Zarkon did not ask exactly why he had fled. He knew there had been an incident, a reason Lance distrusted Blue and knew of the lions’ treachery. He knew there were times Lance did not access certain abilities because he forgot he had the power to use them at all. It was intriguing, but he stayed silent. 

Lance was grateful for that, and had gone to sleep–he was still so happy to be sleeping–only to wake upon hearing a pounding at his door, followed in quick succession by Keith and Allura bursting through the battered metal. Lance froze.

Why were they here? He hadn’t asked them to be, he didn’t want to see them. They were friends, but they were influenced. His eyes worked frantically. Scans registered to his brain, the speed that they advanced upon him, the angle their eyes narrowed when they saw his face.

“Lance, Lance, can you move?” Allura called. Lance studied the pink of her armor. Just like theirs, except there was no pink lion. Why did she have the paladin armor? Lance had stopped processing in his shock, and didn’t react to the question or immediately when they began to drag him from his bed. He didn’t want them, didn’t need them. They needed to leave.

“Get away from me!” he screamed, at last, fighting their hold. He tried to remember what he’d been taught. He could touch Blue, but she could not touch him if that was not what he wanted. Yes, that was right. It was one of the first things Zarkon had taught him. He drew on her power quickly, sending scathing ice up Allura’s arms, who was dragging him out. She dropped him, and Lance scrambled away. They could not have him.

Keith came to him next, all fire and passion ready to ignite.

“Lance, come on. We’re here to rescue you,” he promised. Lance could see that he had to put out considerable effort to keep from snapping. It was not his nature to coddle and coo. Lance was aware that he would snatch him up and haul him out screaming if he didn’t overpower him.

“I don’t need to be rescued! Not anymore,” he shouted, raising a hand defensively. He was happy, he was safe. He was far away from Blue and Voltron.

“Look at yourself, both of you,” he begged because despite how they tried to drag him away from the haven of the empire, they were family. He didn’t want to hurt them, but he could see no way to stop the control the lions had over them. They had to be abandoned if all else failed. “When did you start excusing murder?” he accused, standing on wobbling legs. He could feel how close Blue was if he focused, her pulsing rage and desire to kill. She had not forgiven him. The princess was a suitable distraction, but when she had him back she was going to tear his mind apart and roll about in the mess. Lance would never fight her again, and he would be obedient. He shuddered, pleading with the two paladins that had been sent to fetch him.

“Please, this isn’t you. It’s the lions, they change you,” he rambled wildly. “They’ll push and push and push and if you start fighting they’ll lock you up tight and won’t let you out until you do as they say.” Keith scoffed, and there was pity in Allura’s eyes. They thought this was his fanatic imagination, the work of the Druids or something else done under Zarkon’s order. They didn’t believe him, and Lance saw Keith slowly creeping forward to subdue him. He stumbled back, the same frost Blue had tried to kill him with spreading across his knuckles and his wrist.

“Lance, this is Voltron. We’re the good guys. Zarkon changed you, made you fear us, but we’d never hurt you,” Allura promised. “We only want to help.” Lance hated the way she pressed forward, all supple muscle and liquid grace. Like a lion. His breath left his lungs in a rush, white in the air.

“Allura, please. _Listen_ to me. If Blue decides she doesn’t like what you’re doing, she’ll sway your decision and force you to comply. She’ll do anything to get her way, and you’ll be helpless, trapped in your own mind while she moves your body and puts a smile on your face. You will be _nothing_.” Lance’s blue eyes flashed with desperation, and Keith’s lip curled into a snarl. He was not moved, but Lance didn’t think he would be. Red was stubborn, Blue had told him, time and time again while she made him work.

Allura again looked at him with pity, but his words sparked a bit of doubt within her. He could see that, despite the way she kept trying to corner him. It was in her eyes, a faltering before she built up her resolve again. Lance pounced upon that.

“Please, he can teach you too. You can break the bond, save yourself. I’ll help you,” he promised. “Let me help you.” Allura again hesitated, just a beat too long for Blue’s comfort, apparently. He could see how her shoulders seized and then relaxed again to rearrange themselves more loosely, while her eyes gleamed gold. Before, gold had been for the Galra, but the lions had similar stares to those vicious soldiers, Lance found.

“You will not take another paladin from me, cub,” Allura snarled, her voice rough around the edges like a roar. She advanced on him suddenly, stalking forward in a rage while her hands latched onto his forearms and held tight. Lance whimpered. Allura had claws formed of ice dangling from her fingertips, and they dug hard enough into his skin to make him bleed.

“Give her back!” he begged, feeling a wave of panic surround him, smothering him. Blue was everywhere, her hands on his skin, in his mind, her voice whispering into his ear.

“She would not turn against the good of the universe because she couldn’t handle the strain of our bond. I made you strong and you would leave as a thank you?” Lance looked to Keith desperately for help, but his eyes shone as well despite the fact that he didn’t move. Red was not as terrifying, but she was just as conniving. Blue growled.

“Look at me when I speak, cub.” She lashed out, shoving him to the floor while a crackling filled the air and Lance saw his old bayard form a sizzling whip. He rolled sharply to the side, Zarkon’s gravelly voice piercing his thoughts.

_“You must control the lions, or they will control you.”_

The whip latched around his ankle, and he screamed in agony and fear as it dragged him to Allura, to Blue and charred his skin, the skin she’d already disfigured so horribly. He couldn’t, wouldn’t be with her again, but Blue was already launching herself at the barriers Lance erected to keep her out. He heard Zarkon’s voice, louder, urgent and coarse.

_**“You must control the lions, or they will control you.”** _

Lance listened. He let his barriers fall and threw himself into the fray.

Blue hurt to touch, to really feel. She was a writhing mass of quintessence, volatile and caustic to the touch despite the cold that froze out any feeling. He remembered Zarkon telling him to take her power and make it his own, keep her weak and unable to fight back. Despite the way the whip burned through his skin and sent pain arcing through his entire body, his entire being, he fought. His fingertips pressed harshly into Allura’s temples, staring not at her–he shuddered to think of what Blue had done in order to possess her–but Blue with a gaze emboldened by a frantic want for freedom.

“You can’t have me,” he told her. “I’m not Allura or Blaytz or anyone else, and I will not _take it_.” His eyes glowed not yellow, but white tinged blue around the edges. He felt power coursing through his entire body, greedily taking it from his former lion while she fought to keep it for herself. A pulsing light began to creep into Allura, spiderwebbed veins stretching across her forehead while Blue snarled violently, contorting her new paladin’s face.

“You cannot beat me, cub. You are mine, mine to control and to have. Lance felt her hatred, her anger, as she pushed back, but his fear spurred him onwards.

“I’m sorry,” he told Allura, pushing the stray hair out of her face. He didn’t want to hurt her or to see anyone else hurt her. “She’ll be out soon, I never wanted this,” he promised. “Hold on.”

Blue wailed.

“Don’t turn her against me, please,” she begged him, still from Allura’s form despite how her hold was weakening. She would have to retreat soon, and they both knew it. Her feeble nips and bats of paws were doing nothing against her paladin who had known her so intimately.

“I need a paladin. I loved you, love you, Lance. I deserve better. I kept you safe!” Tears spilled down Allura’s cheeks, while Keith remained listless in the corner. Lance noted that they didn’t freeze, as his had. Whether it was that they weren’t bonded as strongly or the fact that Blue simply didn’t have the energy, Lance didn’t know. He didn’t care, and with a last push, the gold faded from Allura’s eyes and she came back to herself. She stared at Lance, still teary, as he smiled sadly, ice and cold and power radiating off him effortlessly.

“Tell Blue,” he murmured, taking his hands from her skin, “That if she doesn’t let you make your own decisions, that I will take the rest of her next time. She will be the weaker lion, the odd one out from now on, and she’ll never forget what-” he tapered off, a milky cloud of warm breath in the cold air forming as he stilled. “She’ll never forget,” he concluded. Lance straightened up, offering a frigid hand to his old teammate. Allura still looked dazed, unsure of what had happened, but she pleaded with him regardless.

“Lance, you have to come back. We need you, Blue needs you. Whatever happened between you, it can be fixed. You have so much power, she’d never attack you again. Please, let us rescue you.” Lance shook his head, the blue of his iris gone.

“I’ll never go back to her. I’ll never work with her again. Voltron let me rot.” He pressed his lips together. “Not again,” was all he said at last. Allura looked pained, and Lance hugged her tightly. Her grip was crushing on his shoulders, pressing her head against his shoulder. Lance did his best to remain calm.

“You’ll be amazing,” he whispered tightly, and she smiled as she pulled away. The shaking of the ship stopped as she grabbed Keith by the hand and ran. Lance was brought to Zarkon shortly, who took in the flakes of snow in his hair, and the eyes that seemed so very similar to his own. He sent the guards out, and that just left them.

“Well done, cub,” he praised him, and this time it was Lance who smiled.


End file.
